


Crossroads

by TheTurtleFromHell



Category: Blood of Zeus (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Seraphim Lives AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTurtleFromHell/pseuds/TheTurtleFromHell
Summary: “What’s done is done. Even if you spare me, the curse lives on. The destruction and bloodshed I’ve caused will not be erased by your mercy!”“No, it won’t. But it's better than doing it their way.”
Comments: 40
Kudos: 126





	1. Free Will

The air was thick with the scent of blood, spilled from both the human and inhuman.

While giants and gods fought, the true fight for humanity was in the hands of two brothers, wrestling of the vessel meant to contain the giant’s souls.

Seraphim gasped as he was pinned against the cliff side, mouth open in a silent scream as his brother’s hand, alight with his father’s lightening, tightened around his throat.

Heron was about to finish him off until their eyes meant, brilliant sapphire meeting flaming ruby.

It’s that moment that changes everything.

In his brother’s demonic gaze he sees it, a rage that he had seen in his own reflection too many times to count. The type that flares violently, keeps you warm and moving and yet leaves your heart cold. The type of rage he felt now.

The rage his mother had discouraged his entire life.

The rage Zeus warned would be his downfall.

The rage that had consumed Hera and fueled her need for revenge.

Heron’s eyes drain of magic, his grip lessens not enough for the demon to break free but enough for him to finally draw air, “What are you doing?” he asked in a hoarse voice between heavy breaths.

“This… this is wrong.” the younger twin murmurs to himself, pausing for a moment before declaring firmly, “I’m not going to kill you.”

Seraphim hissed, “There’s only one way to end this-”

“It’s already ended!” he snapped, “You were right, we were all pawns. You, me, even mother were all pawns to a dying marriage between gods!” he pauses to wet his chapped lips, split and tasting of blood, “But they’re dead now. Don’t you see? The strings have been cut, we can stop this!”

The demon growled, “What’s done is done. Even if you spare me, the curse lives on. The destruction and bloodshed I’ve caused will not be erased by your mercy!”

“No, it won’t.” Heron conceded, “But it's better than doing it their way.”

Before the demon could say anything else, there was a shift in the electricity coursing through his body. The burning, crackling lightning fizzled out into a warm static. Seraphim groaned, wincing at the sensation. It felt like a thousand ants crawling under his skin, and it was only after he cracked open his eyes and saw his hand that he saw why.

The curse was being lifted, cold grey skin burning off and revealing human flesh, as if it had merely been covering up the mortal the entire time. His voice was caught in his throat as he stared in disbelief, watching the horns and red veins that had once covered him fall off and dissolve into ash, carried away by the wind. Heron lowers him to his feet carefully, stepping as his brother gazes at his hands in disbelief.

“I… I don’t understand,” he breathes, “Are you not angry? Do you not wish me to suffer for my crimes, for all the pain I’ve caused?”

Heron sighs, “I am angry,” he confesses, “But I’m sick and tired of anger being in control.”

  
  


Heron looked at his brother, not a demon or an enemy, but a brother, for the first time. For a moment that seemed to last eternity neither of them said anything. They just simply studied the other, as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

It was the younger twin who broke the silence with a laugh, a soft chuckle nearly drowned out by the sound of war, “How funny.”

Seraphim blinked, a little taken aback, “What?” he asks, more than a little on edge.

Heron’s eyes brim with tears as he smiles sadly, “We both have her hair.” he says, voice wavering with emotion. 

The older twin grabbed a piece of his hair, realizing the other was right. His vision blurred with tears as the memories of his mother’s hair, red and sticky in the puddle of blood he had been the one to spill. He choked on a sob, “I… I just wanted to be strong…” he whimpers, cringing at how weak, how human he had sounded. His uncle had been right, he should have just died in that river and spared everyone, spared his family bloodshed he had brought about.

And yet the brother who had every right to hate him, to disown him, to kill him instead took him into his arms, whispering in a voice shaking with emotion, “You are strong,” he assured with a sniffle, “You’re strong for surviving everything you went through. We both are, it’s in our nature.”

‘Our’ he says, a single word which cements everything. They are all they have left of their family.

They hold each other tight, even as exhaustion catches up to them. Their battered bodies slumped over, but still cling to each other as consciousness slips away.


	2. Foresight

Waking up was not a pleasant affair.

Heron came back into the world of the living with an ache so deep it was rooted in every bone, the healing wounds on his skin itched like ants and the bruises felt like a heat rash on his insides.

His head pounded as he woke, forcing him to wrench his eyes shut and wait a few moments for the headache to subside. After a bit he finally managed to sit up properly, taking stock of his surroundings.

The bed he sat on was the softest bed he had ever felt, a stark contrast to the hay mattress he had spent his whole life sleeping on. The walls are stark white marble decorated with untarnished gold, so pristine it felt as if he had been the first person to be inside of it.

A room that could only be crafted in Olympus.

“Careful now,” came a familiar voice, “You don’t want to undo all my hard work.”

“Apollo,” he smiles, looking up just as the god walks to his bedside, “I suppose I’m fortunate to have the god of medicine himself tending to me.”

“Please, save the thanks for after you’re all healed up.” he chides playfully, setting down a tray full of potions, “After that you are more than welcome to leave offerings at all of my temples.”

“Every single one? That’s a bit too much.” he chuckles, then winces as the pain in his chest flairs.

“Hold on, I have something for that.” Apollo says, looking over the tray for a moment before grabbing one of the bottles and popping the cork, “Here.”

Heron took the bottle and took a long sip of the mystery liquid, sighing with relief as the pain dulled down. As he placed the bottle down, he noticed Apollo’s entire right side was covered in a sort of burn scar, a permanent reminder of the Giant he had battled with.

Noticing what he was looking at, Apollo quickly brushed it off, “Hyacinthus tells me he spends all day admiring them, says it reminds him of sunspots. In both meanings of the word, of course.”

“They suit you,” Heron says with a smile. 

The sun god smiled back, ruffling the mortal’s hair, “If you need anything, just shout my name.” he says, “Right now, there’s some golden cattle that need wrangling. I’ll see you around little brother.”

“Um, of course.” he says, watching as he left. It still felt so surreal, being family to the Gods, and would take some time until it didn’t feel that way. Until then, he had a human family that needed tending to.

With a long, pained groan he rose to his feet, pressing his hand along the wall for support as he walked. Like both Apollo’s and his own body, Olympus was marred with fresh wounds from the battle. 

Also like his wounds, the healing had begun. All around him the gods and deities busied themselves with clearing rubble and repairing the great kingdom. It was poetic in a way, how they had all set aside their differences and came together to heal their home.

He walked through the winding paths and down stairs until he saw Alexia, Evios and Kofi in one of the courtyards. Alexia spotted him first, her eyes alight with joy and relief as she ran to hug him. Heron caught her in his arms, grunting as the fire of pain flared under his yet to heal injuries. She immediately backs off, stepping away with a sheepish “Sorry!”

Still, her hand lingered on his side as if she had to make sure he was there, and had to be sure he was living and breathing under her touch.

“That will be a great scar.” Kofi chuckled as he and Evios came over, looking equally as relieved as the Amazonian.

“Thank you,” he smiles as he looks between them, “For everything. The battle couldn’t have been won without you, all of you.”

“Please, the war is over! No need for any more inspiring speeches, I assure you.” Evios teased, earning a playful punch to the arm from Kofi.

“What Evios  _ means _ to say is that it was an honor fighting by your side.” Alexia says, “And we’d do it again for it in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, something like that.” he smiles lopsidedly, “Seriously though, I’m glad you're alright kid. You gave us a real scare when we found you. Kofi even ended up crying!”   
“I only cried a little.” he rolled his eyes, “You were crying harder than me.”   
“I was not! I just had a bunch of dirt and shit in my eyes from the battle is all!” he said defensively.

Heron laughed, bemused by their antics, “I’m touched to know you care so much about me. If it’s not too much trouble, can I ask you guys a question?”

“Of course!” Alexia says, “Anything.”

“Where is my brother?”

* * *

It took a bit of searching, but at last Heron found the room where his brother was being kept. It was guarded by two of the mechanical soldiers, mindlessly and obediently guarding the door.

“Um, excuse me.” he said, trying to reach past them for the door.

The guard immediately moved closer to each other, blocking off the handle. Heron huffed, “I defeated one of you during my training you know.”

The guards said nothing in reply, didn’t even acknowledge him. He may as well have been an insignificant fly to them, buzzing annoyingly but ultimately nothing to pay any mind to.

Heron was considering whether or not he could take them on when a gruff voice called to him, “Heron? What are you doing out of bed?”

“Hephaestus,” the demigod sighs in relief, turning to face the craftsman, “Can you tell your guards to let me in?”

The god looked hesitant, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, boy.” he sighs heavily, “I understand he’s family, but you also have to remember what he is capable of with or without the giant’s meat to fuel him.”

“I’m very well aware of all that, he’s killed my mother after all.” Heron says, “It might be that he’s an irredeemable monster incapable of love, but I won’t know that for sure until I speak with him.”

“Getting close to him now wouldn’t be a good idea,” the god said, “The others are discussing his punishment at this very moment, he might even be put to death, and I know you know that death by the gods is never a painless affair.”

“All the more reason for me to get closure then, right?” he points out.   
  


There’s a beat of silence, before the god nods to his creations. The soldier’s step aside as Hephaestus places a hand on the mortal’s shoulder, “Be careful in there.”   
Heron nodded, taking a deep breath as he opened the door and walked inside, shutting the door behind himself for some privacy.

Seraphim sat at the edge of the bed, body covered in bandages just like his Heron. Unlike his twin, however, were the shackles around his wrists, connected to the head of the bed. He could get up and walk around the bed and use a chamberpot if he pleased, but was allowed no more distance than that.

His blind eyes were facing towards the door, seemingly on purpose like he was refusing to face whoever had walked in.

“Hello.” Heron greeted cautiously.

Seraphim whipped his head around at the sound of his brother’s voice, like he had never expected to see his brother’s face again, “It’s you.” he says in surprise.

“It’s me.” he replies with a small friendly smile, walking over to sit on the bed with him. Seraphim shied away just the slightest, but it was clearly not personal to Heron, it was just him being generally uncomfortable being so close to someone. Honestly, the younger twin couldn’t blame him after hearing about everything the other had been through. It was a miracle he was even tolerating another human’s presence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, trying his best not to be too invasive.

Seraphim eyes squint as he thinks, “It’s… strange. I don’t even know how to describe it.” he says after a moment, “The anger and hate was all mine but the giant’s essence made it so intense, yet at the same time I found comfort in it. I guess it would be like when you get so cold and desperate for warmth you sit too close to a fire. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong. I’m sick of trying to find sense in nonsense, I just want it to be over with.”

“That’s good,” Heron says encouragingly, “I think it’s good to move on.”

Seraphim laughed darkly, “Move on?  _ Move on _ ?” he echoed incredulously, “Do you really think the gods will just let me ‘move on’?”

The younger twin frowned, “No,” he admits, “But whatever your fate is to be, I won’t abandon you. I’ll even speak on your behalf, surely as the savior of Olympus my word must have some sway.”   
He cocked a brow, “You would do all this for a brother who’s done nothing but wreak havoc upon your life?”

Heron had to think for a moment before he replied, “I just want a chance to know you. Not as the demon or Melidonian or whatever it is you were, but as a human, as the brother I never got the chance to know.

Seraphim chuckles, “It’s better not to know your enemies.”

“We’re not enemies now though, are we?” he argues, “We don’t even have to share things in common. I mean, look at Ares and Hermes for example, those two are about as different as you can get from one another.”

The older twin looks away, seemingly shutting in on himself.

“We can just start small.” he offers, “Like, what’s your favorite food? Mine’s rabbit stew. Mom always knew how to season the meat and cook the vegetables just right every time, watching her cook it was like magic-” he pauses, “Sorry, I’m rambling. Go ahead and tell me yours.”

Seraphim remained silent, eyes staying downcast. Heron sighed, “Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.” he huffs as he stands to leave. 

Just as he places his hand on the door handle, he hears his brother murmur, “Apples.”

His heart had never soared so high with hope so at a single word until that moment, “What was that?” he asked as he snapped his head back.

“My favorite food is apples.” the older twin said, with just a hint of a smile on his face as he recalls, “There was an orchid of them near the cave where I grew up. They had the perfect crunch when you bit into them, and they were juicy and sweet like no other apple I ever tasted.” Heron returns to his side as he continues, “They were especially nice if you let them chill in the creek on a hot day.”

“You had a creek near your home?” the younger twin inquires.

Seraphim nodded, “A fairly large one. I learned to swim there, and I often went down there with the bears to catch fish-”

“Wait, bears?” 

“Zeus influenced a mother bear to accept me as one of her own and I was raised alongside her cubs. I ate with them, played with them, talked with them and so on. They were like a brother and sister to me.” he explains with a look of sadness, “It sounds stupid, but I really did love them like family.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Heron assures, “If it makes you feel any better, I think having bears for siblings sounds rather amazing.”

He smiles a little at that, “I’m sure you fared well with your human playmates.”

“Not really,” he shakes his head, “Not a lot of kids wanted to be friends with the town bastard.”

“Oh, right.” he says apologetically, “I forgot about that. Forgive me, I wasn’t raised in society.”

“And yet you’re more civil than the nobleman I knew.”

The two brothers share a short laugh, before the doors opened and interrupted their bonding. Hephaestus walked inside with two metallic soldiers, a solemn look on his face as he told them “It’s time.”

**Author's Note:**

> my first non-castlevania fic and it's an anime produced by the same animators. go figure ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
